But What Do I Know
by Andela
Summary: Something Wicked, Dean's POV and thoughts on innocence and ignorance before asking Michael for his help. One shot.


Disclaimer: The threat of my neck being broken if I tried another silent auction of the boys is kinda keeping me from getting a hold of it. So I still don't own it.

**But What Do I Know**

"_What can we know? What are we all? Poor silly half-brained things peering out at the infinite, with the aspirations of angels and the instincts of beasts."_

_-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Stark Munro Letters_

I wish Michael didn't have to know.

Believe me, I don't. A kid like that, so full of life and willing to do anything for his younger brother, he doesn't deserve to have his innocence taken from him. Like mine was. Like Sammy's was.

The things I see, the things I have to do, all in the name of good. I hate it sometimes.

When did I get used to stealing? When did I get to the point where I could simply laugh or shrug it off when Sam asks me if we've been scamming again? Where I can easily say it's _our _hard earned money we're spending on some disguise to get a closer look at a murder scene?

When was I first able to stand the site of blood splattered on the walls or blood stained family photos? When that old son of a bitch that took Sammy and was planning on hunting him, he asked me if I'd ever killed. And I couldn't say no. Just "depends on what you mean." I joke about blasting some creature's brains out but really I'm just so tired. I can't keep going on like this. I tell Sammy that we need him, that this life isn't so bad but what do I know? I know no other life.

Sammy tried. He was just so desperate to be 'normal,' whatever that means. But he isn't normal, no matter how hard he tries. And now Jess haunts his dreams. She had to pay the price. I only met her once but I could tell Sam loved her. She made him happy. Feel normal. But none of us are. Since the moment our mother died on the ceiling and was engulfed by the flames we've been marked. A piece of this family was ripped away and we can never get it back. Never. The hole can never be filled. And this emptiness I feel-that we all feel-is taking over.

I don't know if I'm making a difference. I keep telling Sammy that we are and I know he's sick of hearing it. But for every smile I see from a grateful family we help I see another broken one. We can't save everyone, try as we might. And I do try. We both do. But I can tell Sam's nearly had enough. Me…I don't know what I feel. Sometimes I wish I could just stop, but I can't. I can't just quit or settle down. I'm too wrapped up in my own ways. I have too big a problem with authority and ignorance and just rolling over and taking things like they are. What's that they always say-ignorance is bliss? Yeah that's it. I hate that line, its so clichéd but I can't help but accept the fact that it's true. Not knowing is sometimes just so much better than having the truth thrown in your face. I wish Sam could be ignorant; have that innocence again and the normalcy he's always dreamed of.

I don't think he'll ever manage to get it as long as this war carries on. Maybe one day he will. But I don't see myself in that picture. Because one day I know he'll leave me. Or I'll die fighting. This job-it's going to get me killed. Whether it's now or a lifetime later. I don't know anything different. What more can I do than what I've been trained to do?

I have to tell Michael. If we're going to help his brother Asher, I have to tell him that there are things in the dark. Nightmares can come true. Evil does exist. And one day it may claim us. I don't plan on letting it win, but if it does I'll die fighting it so children like Michael can sleep without being afraid of the thing in their closet or under their bed.

I hope I'm doing the right thing by telling him this and I know he'll do what he thinks is right in the end. For his brother. For his family.

I honestly hope I can undo my mistake and make things right. If we bring down this striga we'll be saving the kids' lives and avenging countless others.

If we keep fighting we may be able to save good people. We may be able to spare others our pain, our hell.

Or we might lose.

How could I possibly know what the future holds for me and my brother?

What do I know about this family we've chosen to help?

I don't know how Michael will handle this. It's not everyday that two grown men come to your motel asking you to help them kill a witch. This may not work. The kid and his brother could die. I don't know.

I just don't know anymore.


End file.
